Companion Animals
by Chiroptera Jones
Summary: His career troubles aside, Anders primarily considers himself to be a CAT vet. But one day Hawke shows up to the clinic with his huge, slobbery dog, and decides that he only wants to see Anders from now on! Mostly lighthearted veterinarian AU with some mild angst. Hawke/Anders with some Anders and Merrill friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Anders settled into his chair in the vet's office, nursing a mug of tea. As one of the junior vets, he merited a small desk in the corner, wedged behind a shelf of books. Sheaves of test results and paperwork littered his desk, and a motivational kitten poster looked angelically down at him from the wall behind the computer monitor. He switched his computer on to peruse the morning's appointments.

"Morning, Anders," Bethany said, poking her head around the door. "Morning, Merrill."

"Good morning!" Merrill said chirpily. "Anything interesting coming in today?"

"Well, my brother's bringing his dog in," Bethany said. Bethany was one of the practice's vet nurses. Anders hadn't even been aware she had a brother. "I've booked him in at ten with Anders."

"Ooh, what sort of dog?" Merrill said.

"A mabari," Bethany said. "He's only a young dog, Hawke's had him for a few months."

Anders, who had pulled up the appointment details, spluttered into his tea. "60 kilos?" he demanded. "Please tell me that is a typo. How can it weigh 60 kilos if it's only ten months old?"

Bethany shook her head. "Nope. No typo. Like I said, mabari."

"What on earth is a 'mabari'?" He typed it into google, and looked aghast at the photos that came up. "God, it's some sort of European mastiff… thing… Look at the jowls on it. What's he in for? Ugh, ears?"

"And skin," Bethany said.

Anders liked most animals. He genuinely did. He wouldn't have ended up in this job otherwise. But big, slobbery dogs? The type with enough skin for two dogs and almost perpetual issues with it? The type that always wanted to either tear Anders' face off or slather it in saliva and unreciprocated affection, one or the other, no middle ground?

He gave the other veterinarian a pleading look. "Hey, Merrill…"

"No, I'm not seeing him," Merrill said briskly. "Mr Tethras is bringing Bianca in for a recheck, and you don't know anything about what's going on with that case, so it has to be me who sees her."

"Look, I'm really more of a cat vet," Anders complained, to nobody in particular. "Give me a fractious cat and I'm fine. They're easy. Even the really bad ones can usually be bundled up in towels. I can't bundle a 60 kilo mastiff thing up in a towel."

"You're overreacting," Bethany said. "You'll be fine, Anders! Just because he's a big dog doesn't mean he'll be difficult. Trust me, Max is an absolute sweetheart."

.

"Boof! Boof boof boof! RRRrrrrRRrr boof!"

"I am so sorry. Max, sit. Sit! Sit, boy!"

The astoundingly large dog did not sit. It stayed standing, head down, ears pricked forward, tail waving slowly and stiffly from side to side.

Anders directed his eyes carefully to the side and edged across the room, trying to put the consult table in between him and the dog. "Er, hello-my-name-is-Dr-Anders-what-can-I-do-for-you," he said at speed.

"I'm Garth Hawkins," the man beside the enormous mastiff said, beaming and reaching out a hand. "Please call me Hawke!"

Anders shook the offered hand, a little limply. 'Hawke' was a tall man with a ponytail; his sleeveless shirt displayed tanned, muscular biceps. His hand was firm and strong and startlingly warm.

"Boof! Boof boof boof!" The dog lowered its head again and growled deep in its throat. "RRRRRrrr…"

Anders pulled his hand back, professional smile slipping a little. "Let's see what we have here for a… good dog," he said, fishing out a liver treat from the drawer and placing it cautiously on the floor. "What brings you and – um – Max - here today?"

There wasn't really any need to ask; the small room was already filling with the powerful, permeative odour of a large, jowly, slobbery dog with infected skin and terrible ears.

 _I am going to smell like the inside of this dog's ear canal for the rest of the day_ , Anders thought with a sinking heart. _Probably the rest of the week._

"Well, he won't stop shaking his head," Hawke said, as Max made the liver treat disappear, leaving a large wet patch on the floor. The dog came over, tail still wagging stiffly, and snuffled at Anders' hand looking for more.

Anders gingerly gave him another liver treat and wiped a ropy string of drool off his hand onto his scrubs. "Ah, and there is a bit of a smell," he said.

Hawke looked blank. "Oh. Is there? I hadn't noticed."

 _Urgh…_. Anders hoisted a smile onto his face. "Well, let's have a look, shall we?"

Max was not keen on having his ears examined.

"Oh, he's never bitten anybody," Hawke assured Anders, several minutes and an unsuccessful attempt at a muzzle later. His burly arms were thrown around the dog's chest.

"GRRrrrrRRRRrrrrgh!"

 _Well, I don't want to be the first!_ Anders grinned weakly from across the room, where he had retreated behind the table.

He wondered if he could hold the dog off with the chair for long enough to get out the door if it went for him. He had given up on getting a closer look and sent the nurse away. "Well, it's obvious they hurt a lot. If you could just – "

"Boof boof GrrrRRRRrrboof!"

"… take a sample for me with…."

"GRRRRrrrRRRgh!"

Anders, who had started across the room holding out a swab, recoiled back against the far wall again as the mastiff heaved against Hawke's arms.

" _Max_ ," Hawke chided. "I promise, doc, he's normally the sweetest fellow you'd ever meet. Just wants hugs!"

The dog rested his wet chin on Hawke's shoulder and rumbled warningly at Anders, beady eyes hidden in folds of moist skin. The droopy lip lifted to display an extremely large, extremely white canine.

"Well, you know how it is," Anders said, desperately wishing he could have seen Bianca instead, who was a slightly standoffish cat, but who at least wasn't capable of tearing Anders' throat out in a matter of seconds. "He doesn't understand I'm trying to help."

Later, as Anders gathered up the medications Hawke and Max needed, Hawke sat on the floor of the consult room, long legs in grubby jeans spread out in front of him, with the massive head of the mastiff in his lap.

"Got any dogs yourself, doc?" Hawke asked cheerfully.

"Oh, er, no," Anders said distantly. "I don't think the cats I already have would appreciate it. Really more of a cat person on the whole. Also I live in an apartment."

Hawke grinned, his hand tousling Max's ears roughly. "Yeah, that might get a bit cramped," he agreed. "Hell, I have a big yard and I still have to walk this big guy twice a day or he eats my furniture."

"Mm," Anders agreed. "Speaking of, you should look into some obedience training for him."

"Oh, yeah," Hawke said, looking down at the puddle of skin folds and drool in his lap. "He only sits if he feels like it… Sometimes he pulls me clear across the park, the rascal…"

"Definitely needs obedience classes," Anders said sternly, with visions of this monster barrelling across the dog park dragging Hawke behind him on the ground, knocking over children and terrorising the other dogs. In the _best_ case scenario. "You can't let him get into bad habits, otherwise you'll end up with massive behavioural problems on your hands. It's cute now, but you'll be in trouble if you don't address it."

Hawke gave a lazy mock-salute. "Right you are, doc." He shifted the dog out of the way and hauled himself to his feet. He shook Anders' surprised hand with great enthusiasm. "Thank you so much for your help." He smiled, this time at close quarters, with a flash of white teeth and bright blue eyes, and it distracted Anders for a moment.

"No problem, Mr Hawkins," Anders said, pulling his hand back abruptly.

"Call me Hawke, please," Hawke said firmly. "See you in two weeks for the recheck!"

"Yes, quite," Anders said. "Hopefully that will have it sorted…."

.

Weeks passed. Visits from Hawke and his mabari came occasionally and then stopped, to Anders' distinct relief, and he had almost forgotten the pair existed until he came in on another morning, very similar to the first, and checked his schedule.

He physically recoiled when he saw the name on his side of the appointment book.

"I, ah, Merrill," he said quickly. "Merrill, I know I said you could do surgery today, but would you mind awfully if I –"

"Anders!" Bethany said, poking her head around the door. "No swapping. Hawke asked for you _specifically_."

"He what?" Anders demanded. "Why did you let him do that?"

"He says Max likes you," Bethany said, raising an eyebrow.

Anders waved his hands helplessly. "The feeling is not mutual!"

"I don't know why," Bethany said. She looked puzzled and a little hurt. "I'd understand if they were difficult clients, but they aren't. Max's very big and strong but he's fairly well behaved now. And you know my brother would do just about anything for that dog."

"I think they're very sweet," Merrill said brightly. "It's just a vaccination, Anders! It'll take you no time at all. And the dog isn't that bad!"

Anders, grudgingly, had to admit that Max had gotten better behaved since his first visit. Not having raging ear infections probably helped with that, but he hadn't growled at Anders since the first time. Hawke seemed to be taking all of Anders' training advice to heart.

"But he's just so _big,_ " Anders complained. "And loud. And _drooly_."

"Yes, and the dog too, I know," Bethany said, and winked.

"Anders, you can't just see the animals you like," Merrill said, severely.

Anders grumbled under his breath. "I'll remember this," he threatened, raising a finger dramatically. "Next time you have to get blood from a difficult cat, see if I come to help when you call!"

"Anders, any time there is a cat out back, I don't _have_ to call you," Merrill said. "You materialise from the ether and are cooing at it the first time I turn around."

Anders paused. "OK. You have me there." He let his arm fall. "Guess I'd better see Max, then."

This time, when Anders opened the door and came in, Max lifted his head and approached, tail wagging gently, face wreathed in canine smiles. It seemed Anders was no longer 'stranger-manhandling-my-person-and-trying-to-poke-my-ears'. He was now primarily a source of liver treats.

Max planted himself at Anders' feet. Anders patted him on the head, a little cautiously. "Hello, Max. Hawke."

When another pat was not forthcoming, Max raised his paw and batted at Anders' thigh. His very large, heavy paw. Anders winced. He would probably find a pawprint shaped bruise there later, when he undressed alone to shower in his tiny apartment.

"Hi, doc," Hawke said, unfolding from the chair in the corner. He was wearing a t-shirt this time, the material tight across his chest. His eyes really were very blue.

Max apparently decided that if Anders' wouldn't come down to him, he would come up to Anders. He reared up in order to place truly giant paws on the counter, sending pens and thermometers flying, and leaned his head into Anders' chest.

"Ack," Anders said, pressed back against the counter, the handle of the drawer digging uncomfortably into his spine. He put his hand on the dog's head reflexively. Max nudged closer and snuffled wetly at Anders' armpit.

"Down, boy!" Hawke said sternly, and the dog hauled himself back to all fours again and did a lap of the small room.

"Boof boof!"

"Sorry," Hawke said. "He's getting better, though! He's just excited to see you. Must be nice to see him when he's not sick!"

"Um," Anders said, drying his hands on his scrubs, "Yes, it certainly is." There was – yuck - saliva all over his keyboard. He mopped it up with a hand towel.

Max returned to Anders and sat on his foot while they talked, and gazed up at him in canine adoration, tongue lolling, drool everywhere. He scratched Max around the shoulders and ears periodically, because really, what else could he do?

"One other thing," Anders said. His foot had gone entirely to sleep. "Max's not desexed. I understand waiting till he's got more of his adult growth, but he's over one and a half now and there's no reason why he should keep those unless he's a breeding dog."

"Oh," Hawke said. "Well… he's not a breeding dog, specifically, but… I was thinking of leaving it… I don't know, now you mention it, a friend of mine has a girl dog, and I was thinking that puppies might be really cute!"

Anders pressed his lips together. "Do you know anything about breeding dogs?" he said, coldly. "Do they?"

"Well, no," Hawke said, looking taken aback. "But I mean, it can't be that hard… can it…? Just one litter, I mean, not a whole lot…"

Anders gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "That is a very damaging attitude," he said. He took a moment to shift Max off his foot. "Let me tell you some of the reasons why. First of all, 'I thought it would be cute' is an extremely poor reason to bring a group of living creatures into the world. Do you know how many puppies are in shelters right now because of the over-population of -"

Annoyance took over for a while and Anders launched into a lecture. It wasn't malicious; he knew it wasn't. God knew there was no malice in Hawke's honest blue eyes and ebullient attitude. But it was just so frustrating…!

Max nudged Anders' hand and whuffed hopefully, and caught up in what he was saying, he forgot to feel disgusted at the drool and the doggy breath. He automatically fed the dog tiny chips of liver treat as he spoke.

"… has _nothing_ to do with it. I just wish people would think about what's best for the animals," Anders finished heatedly, "Instead of only what serves their own egos or their own desires!"

Hawke, amazingly, had not interrupted; nor had his eyes glazed over. He was listening intently, his eyes fixed on Anders' face. "Wow," he said, when it was clear Anders had finished talking. "I'll admit I hadn't ever thought about it that way. I'll definitely give the question some serious thought."

"Er… good," Anders said, a little feebly. People didn't normally respond like that. "Animals are a responsibility, not a right."

Hawke nodded. "Oh, yes. Absolutely."

"Anyway, moving on," Anders said quickly. He was blushing. He hadn't meant to get carried away. He wasn't supposed to speak to people like that; he knew he wasn't. They got angry, and complained, and most of the time they didn't do what he'd been recommending they do anyway.

Hawke had just managed to unerringly hit one of his buttons. _I say that as though I don't have a multitude of buttons that are very easy to hit,_ Anders thought ruefully _. How embarrassing. Well, maybe if I lecture him like that enough times, he'll stop asking for me._

 _I bet he doesn't get him desexed, anyway._

 _._

"Anders," Merrill sighed a week later, spinning around in the chair to face him behind the reception desk. "I had to smooth a lot of ruffled feathers because of you yesterday! What in the world did you say to Mr Fenris?"

Anders scowled and collected the paperwork he needed. "I simply told him that if he didn't know anything about dachsunds then he shouldn't have got one. Honestly, can't people do the slightest bit of research…"

"It was a new puppy consult! You're supposed to be telling him the things he needs to know! We're lucky he's still willing to come back and see me."

"Well, he wasn't listening to me – "

"Anders, you can't talk to people like they're morons. There is a time and a place for lectures on the ethics of breeding chondrodysplastic dogs," Merrill said, with a roll of her eyes. "New puppy consults with clients who already dislike you are not it. Can't you save it for your blog?"

"I don't have time to blog," Anders said sulkily. "I worked fifty hours last week…"

"Only because you keep agreeing to the extra shifts – "

They cut off their conversation as a client came out of one of the rooms, laughing loudly and hanging back in the doorway. "Thanks, Beth, you're the best. See you this afternoon!" Hawke turned around and saw them behind the reception desk.

"Hey, doc," Hawke said, with a smile like the sun. "Had a think about what you said and you're right, as usual. So Max is in for desexing today."

"Uh," Anders said, flustered. "…Of course. Good."

"Will you be doing the surgery?" Hawke asked. "He likes you."

"Well, he'll be asleep, so I doubt it will matter to him," Anders said without thinking, and then added hastily, "But yes, I'm doing surgery today, I can do his."

"Great! He's in good hands." Hawke raised his hand in a little wave farewell, and left.

"Ooh," Merrill said, with a wicked grin. "You're right, as usual, Anders? Looks like you've got a fanclub now, just like the bosses do. How do I get people to say that about me?"

Anders made a face at her. "Honestly, Merrill, I wish I knew."


	2. Chapter 2

Anders hit the 'enter' key on his keyboard with much more force than necessary. He turned around and leaned against the counter, his hands behind his back. The miniature poodle in front of him on the table licked its lips and whined.

Anders tapped on the hard surface of the counter with his fingertips, the rhythm agitated. "At this point," he said through gritted teeth, "It really is a quality of life issue. I'm not trying to 'nag' you, as you put it, but my job is to be an advocate for Teddy's welfare and his current dental health is a serious negative - "

"I just don't have that kind of money to spend on him," the woman said. "Particularly not since, well, he's old, you know..."

Anders stopped tapping and gripped the edge of the bench with one of his hands. "Madam, he is ten," he snapped. "He might easily live another four or five years. It's not acceptable to keep him in pain because you're hoping he'll die soon and save you money."

She drew herself up, hand flying to her mouth. "Well I – how dare you," she spluttered. "Teddy is very dear to me and I've always – "

"Not dear enough for you to feel bad about his teeth rotting out of his mouth, apparently!"

She clutched the poodle to her chest, as if Anders was going to hurt him. "You can't – "

"You've been bringing him to me for two years now and every time I tell you the same thing! I'm sick of it. Your dog's teeth are appalling and you should be ashamed. If I had my way he'd be taken off you by the authorities." Anders dragged his stethoscope off and slammed it on the tabletop. "Sadly I'm _just the vet_ , so what do I know? Get out of my consult room."

His hands were shaking as he stormed out, slamming the door behind himself.

God, the _selfishness_! The hypocrisy! It baffled Anders, it really did, how one could claim to love an animal and yet brush it off when told they were in pain. _I_ hate _people sometimes!_

He stood in the hallway, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. He covered his hot face with his hands. _What am I doing here? I'm not good at this. I'm not strong enough to deal with this. Why did I ever think I got my degree for the animals? I'm just here to serve people's convenience and make them feel better!_

 _God, is this going to be the rest of my life? Failing to convince ignorant and stupid people that they should give a damn about their animals? I can't do it!_

 _If I were a better vet I would find a way to deal with this…!_

Anders could hear the raised voice of the woman he'd just shouted at, coming down the hallway from reception. He grimaced, pushing a hand through his hair. He was going to get into trouble about that. Frankly, Anders thought the clinic was probably better off without her patronage, but he doubted his bosses would see it that way.

By the time she had left, he was a bit calmer. He wandered morosely up the hall to ask the nurse on the reception desk about it. Through the doorway, he caught sight of a familiar face – bright blue eyes, and a muscled forearm leaning on the reception desk.

His heart skipped. Before he had even completely registered what it was he'd seen, Anders found himself tucked behind the pharmacy door.

Anders cursed under his breath when he realised he was hiding in the pharmacy from a client. Not his most dignified moment.

"Hello… I'm sorry, I don't have an appointment. We normally see Dr Anders…"

Well, he wasn't going to come out _now_.

He let his head fall back against the door and closed his eyes, resigned to staying there until Hawke was gone. He had asked the nurses to schedule Max with somebody else if they possibly could, but Hawke kept asking for _him_. It was becoming a practice in-joke.

"I'm sorry, Mr Hawkins, Anders probably isn't free today," the nurse was saying apologetically. "I could fit you in with Dr Merrill…."

"That's fine," he heard. "I mean, I'd obviously rather keep seeing Anders, but Max really can't wait, so whoever you have will be fine."

Anders' raised his head, frowning. The voice almost wasn't recognisable as Hawke's; flat, worried, unusually quiet.

"All right, then, Mr Hawkins, Merrill is with someone at the moment but she should be free in half an hour…"

"That's fine. Thank you. Can I bring him in from the car and wait in here?"

"Of course… what's been going on with him today?"

He heard Hawke give a worried sigh, over the tick-tacking of the nurse's fingers on the keys. "He can't keep anything down, not food, not water… Woke up this morning and he's just lying around, doesn't want to do anything..."

"So, this started yesterday?"

"Well… late last night, yeah…" Hawke mumbled. "Got the morning off work to get him down here… Something's really badly wrong, I can tell."

Anders stared ahead of himself at the wall of bottles and packets, guilt twisting in his stomach. Here he was, hiding in a drug cupboard from a perfectly nice human who actually _did_ care and wanted to do his best for his dog.

He stepped out from behind the door, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Hawke and the nurse glanced up, surprised.

He gave a helpless smile. "I'm, er, finished that consult earlier than I thought," he said to the nurse. "Just give me a few minutes to clean up and I can see Max. We can reschedule the next one."

.

Wrestling a 60kg dog onto the clinic's X-ray table wasn't something he was looking forward to, but in the end they had managed. _Thank God for digital X-rays…_

"If you look here," Anders said, his fingers sweeping across the viewing screen. "You can see where all this gas is backed up behind… this _here._ " His finger stabbed at the centre of the abdomen. "It's probably a toy or a bone or something."

Hawke looked from the X-ray back to Anders' face. His arms were folded tightly, and his face was taut and frightened. "OK, Anders," he said uncertainly. "If you say so."

Max lay on the floor at their feet, quiet, head down on his massive paws. His brow furrowed as he glanced up at them from time to time, but he didn't make a sound.

"So what next?" Hawke said. "Do you have to operate and take it out?"

"Yes," Anders said gently. He felt, oddly enough, perfectly calm. Other patients, other worries fell away and everything he had was focussed on the current problem, the animal and the patient in front of him. Test results and history and symptoms all falling into place in his head and mapping out where to go from here.

This, Anders could do. Anders was good at this.

Hawke listened, his face pale, as Anders went through what would be involved in the surgery, the risks, possible complications, and the cost. "Well," he said hoarsely when Anders was finished. "I guess that's what we'll have to do, then. We'll manage. Will you – will you do it this afternoon?"

"We'll have to stabilise him first," Anders said. "But yes, probably. If you want to leave him with me, and head out to the front desk to fill out some paperwork, I'll get him started on a drip."

Hawke nodded, and smoothed his hair back from his face, swearing to himself. He got down on his knees beside the dog, to cradle the huge head in his hands and whisper to him. "Hey, boy. Heeeeey, boy. You'll stay here with Anders, right?"

Max whuffed softly and his tail thumped against the floor a few times.

"Anders and Beth'll look after you. Yes they will. Who's such a good boy…"

Ander bit his lip and studied the x-ray industriously, trying to pretend he couldn't hear. It was fairly normal for him to feel calm, at least with the owner actually in front of him; he figured it was a good thing. They usually needed the reassurance of Anders being cool and calm and unworried.

Hawke stood up, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

"We've got a good chance," Anders said. He was battling the urge to say ' _It will be alright, he'll pull through_ '. Because Anders couldn't promise that; no vet could promise that without caveats. So Anders never did. But something about the sight of Hawke made him want to say it anyway.

"He's in the best hands," Hawke said. "I know he is." He looked around the x-ray room with a lost expression, tousled Max's ears a final time, and left.

Anders looked down at Max, who was watching his owner leave with ears pricked forward.

"No, you're with me now," he said. "Now look what you've got yourself into, hmm? What did you want to eat that for, whatever it is?"

Max gave the tiniest little 'boof' and his tail thumped on the floor.

.

Anders opened the consult room door, and had his arm almost pulled out of his socket. Heedless of the lead wrapped around Anders' hand, Max ploughed into the room, dragging the hapless vet behind him. His barks rang off the walls, and people out in the waiting room looked up in surprise.

"Boof boof BOOF BOOF BOOF-!"

"Heeeeeey boy! Here you are! Here you _are_! Look at yoouuuuu…" Hawke, kneeling on the floor, had been knocked bodily backwards and was currently being trampled. He didn't seem to mind.

"Augh, Max, I _need_ those," Anders complained, laughing, massaging his fingers. He looked down at the complicated pile of furry limbs and ripped jeans and whirling tail on the floor. "I think he wants to go home, Hawke!"

"Oh, man, I am so ready to have him home," Hawke enthused, climbing up out of the pile. And then, so fast Anders didn't have time to dodge or see it coming, he crossed the room in two long strides and gave Anders the biggest clap on the shoulders he had ever received. "Thank you _so much_!"

"You – you're welcome," Anders stammered, his back smarting, his cheeks unaccountably flushed. "It's my job. It's what I do."

Hawke gave him a wild grin, and turned back to wrap his arms around Max, who hadn't stopped barking throughout the entire exchange.

"By the way," Anders said hurriedly, turning away. "I didn't show you this before…" He ducked back out to the treatment room and came back with a kidney dish in a plastic bag.

"Oh, is this what you found?" Hawke came over to the consult table, curious. "What was it?"

The object in the kidney dish – which had been extracted with considerable difficulty, much swearing, and about three enterotomies by Anders – was much the worse for its journey through Max's insides, and barely recognisable. But you could still just about make out the printed image of something blue with round eyes…

"Cookie monster, I believe," Anders said, struggling not to smile.

Hawke stared at the revolting remains of what had once been a pair of men's boxers. His cheeks and then his ears went crimson.

"Are they yours?"

"Oh," Hawke said in a very small voice. "How did…"

"Your partner's, maybe?"

"Um. I don't have – I mean, uh, no. Mine," Hawke admitted. He looked back over to the dog. "Max, you _asshole…_ "

"Do you want them back?" Anders offered, his mouth twitching.

Hawke shot an embarrassed glance at Anders, found him grinning, and answered with a grin of his own. "Nah, doc, you can keep them. Thanks all the same."


	3. Chapter 3

Anders worked at the clinic for a few more weeks after Max's surgery; and for a while things seemed to be going well. But it wasn't to last, and one day in the autumn the foundation of Anders' life fell apart.

The following day he slipped into the office of the vet clinic, relieved to find it empty.

Anders had to pick up some things; yesterday had been such a mess that he had forgotten to do anything except leave his key. Part of him just wanted to give up and let the clinic keep his stuff. Wasn't worth the embarrassment of going back to get a handful of scrub shirts, an aging stethoscope, and his favourite cat mug.

But he'd left some of his books as well, and those were _expensive_. So he'd sucked it up and dropped by.

He had just finished filtering his things out from everyone else's and was pondering whether he cared enough to want to take his rabbit and guinea pig anaesthesia cheat sheets with him, when he heard Merrill cough behind him.

"Oh. Hello," he said shortly. He gestured to the stack on his desk with one hand. "I won't be long."

"I'm sorry, Anders," she said softly. She was standing in the doorway. He could see pity in her eyes, and he turned away because he didn't want it. He said nothing.

"The bosses aren't in today," she said. "So you don't have to worry about running into them."

He nodded tersely. "OK. Thanks."

"Anders… can I give you some advice?" she asked.

Anders put the cheat sheets down and stared at the kitten poster on the wall behind his computer. "I guess."

She came into the room, and sat down at her desk. "Anders, I think you need to be really careful," she said. "Your job is your life. I know it is. And that's… not good."

Anders shrugged. "Well, guess this specific job isn't my life anymore," he said bitterly.

She sighed. "I worry about you. I'll never say that it's possible to love animals _too much_ , but you need to have something in your life other than that, you know? You're not very good at work-life balance."

"Thanks," Anders said. "I'll add that to the list of things I'm bad at. Along with, 'people skills', and 'taking direction'. Not to mention 'judgement' and 'professional ethics'." He raised his hands to make sarcastic quotes around the words, and then let them drop to his books.

Merrill didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what he'd wanted her to say; that the bosses had been wrong? That she thought his judgement was fine? He knew she didn't think that.

"You're a good vet, Anders." She spun in her chair a little, awkwardly. "I'm just saying… please don't go and work for one of the charity hospitals and make _that_ job into your whole life, Anders, because it will burn you up and leave nothing behind. You need to have something for you. Take up some hobbies, make some non-vet friends. Maybe meet somebody special. You know?"

Anders pulled the kitten poster down. "Thank you for the advice, Life Coach Merrill," he snapped. "Clearly you've missed your calling. I'll get right on that. All I ever needed to fix me was to get _laid_ , of course, so obvious!"

She blinked at him with huge green eyes, and spun the chair back and forth.

His shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Merrill," he muttered. "I know that's not what you meant. I shouldn't snap at you. None of this is your fault." He rolled the poster up and stuck it among the books. "Look, I'm just going to go."

She stood up, and gave him a shy one-armed hug, her curly black head coming just up to his shoulder. "Good luck, Anders. Text me sometime and we can meet up."

"Yeah. Thanks," Anders said, trying to smile. He hugged his stack of textbooks and scrubs to his chest, and left.

Some weeks later, Anders was walking in a park a few blocks down from his house. He'd taken up walking for a half hour or so every day, which he hadn't really had time to do since about halfway through vet school. He was somewhat peeved to discover that his stamina had severely suffered from the lack – he got out of breath _walking_ up the hills, for crying out loud.

The evenings were getting cool, so Anders had sturdy shoes and his coat on. He meandered along the curving paths, past the pond full of ducks (that people insisted on feeding bread, ugh) and the stands of trees, and tried to feel hopeful about the future.

"Boof! Boof!"

Anders stopped and cocked his head. People walked dogs here all the time, it was an off-lead area, but that sounded like a really _large_ dog…

An enormous mabari burst out of the scrub five metres or so in front of him, sending leaves flying. About to hare off away, he caught sight of Anders standing in the middle of the path, astonished.

"BOOF!"

The dog made a scrambling about-turn, in a chaotic whirl of paws, and threw himself towards Anders.

Luckily for Anders the dog stopped just short of bowling him over; instead he cavorted around him, barking, and then leaned all of his weight against Anders' leg.

"You're kidding," Anders said. His hands automatically went to the ears, to the dog's open-mouthed slobbery delight. There couldn't possibly be two dogs, of this breed, this big, in the area, could there? He supposed there could, but -

"Max! Max, _off!_ "

A figure in ripped jeans with hair in a rough bun rounded the bend in the path, at a half-run. He skidded to a halt, and looked sheepishly at Anders. "I'm sorry, he normally doesn't do that with strangers, he – " Hawke froze.

"Hi," Anders said, inadequately.

Hawke's face thawed into a brilliant smile. "Anders! _Wow!_ It's been months, it's good to see you!"

"Yeah, I guess it has," Anders agreed. Max proceeded to lick his arm from wrist to elbow. Somewhat to his own surprise, he was smiling as well. _I think I missed seeing this pair_ , he realised suddenly. That was unexpected. "How's he been?"

"Good, good," Hawke said. "How about you?"

"Oh… fine," Anders said, looking away. "Doing, um, better nowadays, anyway."

"Well, that's… good to hear?" Hawke gave him a curious look. Then he dried his palms on his jeans, and gestured onwards. "I guess I should stop interrupting your walk," he said.

"It's okay," Anders said. He waved his arm in the same direction. "I just go to the end of the park, down here. We could walk together."

So the two of them set off again. Max charged off ahead of them, although Hawke made sure he remained in sight. Anders was a little impressed to see that, no matter how much fun the dog seemed to be having, he would always heed Hawke's call to come back.

There was silence for a few minutes, except for birdcalls and the scuff of feet on the path.

"You left the clinic," Hawke said suddenly. His eyes were a little accusing. "Nobody would tell me why."

Anders raked a hand through his hair, wincing. "Er. I expect they were trying to be nice about it," he said. For whatever reason, he wanted to tell Hawke the truth. Best to come straight out with it; like ripping off a bandaid. "I got fired."

"What!" Hawke spluttered. "But you're the best vet in that place!"

Anders caught his breath. Then he grinned, covering his face with his hand. "I wasn't. Not really. But thank you."

"You were," Hawke insisted. "Why on earth would they fire you? You're passionate, you're great at your job, you're really good at explaining things in a way that even I can understand…"

"Oh, it was a lot of things, really," he said, staring at the concrete path as it went by under his feet. "There were a couple of incidents. You know me; I'm not very tactful sometimes. But then, in the end, I did something that was kind of the last straw."

"What'd you do?"

"I stole this woman's cat," Anders admitted in a small voice.

Hawke shot him a quick glance. "Why?"

Anders hunched his shoulders. "He was sick," he said quietly. "He was so sick and she wouldn't _do_ anything. It was wrong. She declined all tests, declined everything, and she wanted to take him _home_. She wouldn't even let us put him to sleep." He took a deep breath, remembered rage singing in his ears. "So I stole him. I told her she was a selfish bitch, and cruel, and shouldn't be allowed to ever touch an animal ever again, and I hoped when she was old and dying people would dump _her_ somewhere to die alone with no pain meds. And I refused to give her the cat back."

Hawke walked beside him in silence for a few moments. When Anders stole a glance at him, he was looking thoughtful.

"Well?" Anders challenged him.

Hawke scratched his chin, which had a light dusting of stubble. "I don't think you should've called her a bitch," he said mildly.

Anders drew himself up. "I don't –"

"Max's ma and sisters are all very lovely animals. It's quite uncalled for to compare them to someone like that."

Anders choked on the angry tirade that had been rising up his throat like acid. "You – gah – what," he spluttered. Amazingly, a wild laugh burst out of his throat instead.

Hawke tucked his hands into his pockets and looked extremely pleased with himself. Anders had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard.

Hawke stopped and waited for him. One of his hands touched Anders' elbow, gently, to steady him.

"Oh," Anders gasped, straightening up and getting himself under control. "I'm sorry. I'm a little, er, a little bit of a mess at the moment, sorry – "

"That's okay," Hawke said.

They resumed walking, slowly. Max bounded up to them, circled them a few times 'BOOF!'ing happily, received an ear-tousle and a treat from Hawke, and charged off again.

"So is the cat okay?"

Anders sighed. "No," he said sadly. "He was too far gone. I had to let him go."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm kind of used to it, by now. And at least… at least he wasn't in pain, at the end. With me." Anders scowled and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. "I'm not sorry."

And he meant it. Most of the time he _wasn't_ sorry. He had done the right thing and be damned to the consequences; he didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed that he had eased that cat's suffering. He certainly didn't feel sorry for how he'd treated the cat's owner. If called for, Anders thought defiantly, he would happily stand by what he'd said in front of a court _or_ the vet's board.

Of course, his life was kind of off the rails as a result of it, though. Sometimes, when he checked his email to find another rejection letter, Anders wondered if helping that one cat was worth forgoing the chance to help all the other animals he could be helping right now if he still had his job.

"I think maybe the bosses would have stuck up for me if I didn't have a history of bad client interactions," Anders said quietly. "And if I hadn't said… all the things I did. As it is…" He gestured away from himself helplessly. "I just don't have good people skills."

"I don't think that's true," Hawke said, frowning. "You were always just fine with me. Your people skills are great." He cast another glance at Anders. "Sounds to me like you lose your temper with assholes. That's not necessarily _bad people skills_."

Anders smiled at his feet. "Thank you," he said. "At least somebody thinks so."

Hawke cleared his throat. "Well. Where's your new clinic?" he asked. "I'll follow you there."

Anders blinked, taken aback. Then he smiled. "That's nice of you," he said. "But I, um, I haven't found anywhere yet. You should keep going to see Merrill."

"So you're looking for a new place?"

Anders sighed. "Yes," he said. "It's going… well, it's frustrating. But I have an interview lined up this week, so I'm hopeful." This wasn't a lie, either. He _was_ hopeful.

"That's great!" Hawke cast Anders a grin over his shoulder. "Good luck!"

They had reached the end of the pathway, and the end of the park. "Well, this is me," Anders said, waving a hand to indicate the street.

"Oh, just a minute." Hawke began to ferret through his pockets. As Anders watched in bemusement, he pulled out various dog treats, plastic bags, coins, rubber bands, a pen and eventually a piece of paper.

"There," Hawke said triumphantly, as he scrawled on the paper. He held it out to Anders. "My phone number. So you can tell me where your new job is, when you get one."

Anders closed his fingers on the torn piece of paper, not sure what to say.

"And," Hawke said. He bent his head, and suddenly became very focussed on stuffing all of his things back into his pockets. "In the meantime. You can text me sometime, if you like."

Anders put the paper in his pocket. "I'd like that," he said, and meant it.

A week later, Anders curled up on his faded couch in his pajamas, a mug of tea balanced on one knee. He inhaled the steam and sighed happily.

Ser Pounce-a-Lot leapt soundlessly up onto the back of the sofa, and then down onto Anders' legs.

"Whoa, careful," Anders said. Ser Pounce-a-Lot, with a cavalier disregard for the tea, climbed into the hollow between his arms. "Now, listen, you'll be the first to complain if I spill this on you." Pounce ignored him, curled up, and started purring like a diesel engine.

Anders' phone, sitting on the other side of the sofa, trilled. He leaned over to check – he hadn't saved the number into his phone yet, but he recognised it. Hawke.

"Oh, hell," Anders said, suddenly trying to juggle tea, cat and phone without spilling or dropping anything. "Pounce – no, Pounce, get off – argh, hello?"

"Anders! Congratulations!"

"Thanks!" Anders cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face at the sound of Hawke's voice, but at the same time he wondered why Hawke had called him instead of texting back. He leaned over to put the tea down on the floor, causing the cat to complain and climb out of his lap. "It's a really nice little clinic - I had the interview on Wednesday, and then today they called me up and said they want me to start next week!"

"Mrrrp," Pounce said disapprovingly. He bumped at Anders' elbow with his head.

"That's great," Hawke said. Then he paused, and said the next words in a rush. "Let me take you out to dinner to celebrate. To the nice French place downtown."

Anders took a deep breath and sat back. "Is that a date you're asking me on?" he said, his chest full of butterflies. _Oh wow, real smooth Anders, he might take it back at this rate…_

"Maybe. Yes. Definitely." Hawke chuckled, and Anders could feel his nervousness through the phone. "Definitely a date."

Anders was grinning like an idiot. "Then yes," he said. "But on one condition."

"Oh?" Hawke sounded alarmed. "What?"

"If we're going somewhere nice, Max can't come with us. The park is one thing, but I draw the line at fancy restaurants."

There was a moment of silence, and Anders tensed, suddenly wondering if he'd hurt Hawke's feelings.

Then there was a burst of laughter from the other end of the phone line. "Fair enough! He'll be devastated, really posh French food is his favourite! Not even if I put a bow tie on him?"

" _Absolutely_ not."

"Your loss! Give me a bit to make a reservation and I'll get back to you with the time. Talk to you later! Congratulations, again!"

Anders said goodbye and hung up. He laid the phone down, and smiled down at Ser-Pounce-a-Lot. "What do you think, Pounce?" he asked, picking the cat up in both hands.

Pounce met his eyes and chirped inquiringly.

Anders settled him back into his lap. "I mean, we probably couldn't live together. Leaving aside my preferences, I wouldn't put you two through that. But he's incredibly sweet. I think it could work."

Pounce curled up in his lap and purred his agreement.


End file.
